The French captain’s quarters were more cluttered than Anthony’s and therefore much more interesting. However, they were also smaller, so Charlie wouldn’t be able to fit in the bed alongside her mother. She’d been given the second-in-command’s quarters instead, with Anthony displacing the next-most-important officer on the ship. He hadn’t seemed happy about his cramped accommodations. Frankly, Charlie didn’t much care to spend more time in her allotted cabin than necessary, either. There was scarcely room in there to breathe, and not much more breathing space in the captain’s quarters, where her mother would be staying.

In order to avoid brushing against one another while Charlie rooted through the French captain’s belongings in search of anything thrilling or adventurous, Mama had to sit on the bed and keep her legs on the coverlet. They chatted while Charlie indulged her curiosity.

“You still have that letter?” Mama asked.

“Oh. Yes.” Charlie straightened and tugged the missive from Lady Graylocke out of her bodice. She passed it to Mama for safekeeping.

“Good.” Mama smoothed the page on her lap but didn’t put it away for the time being. “We’ll need this when we reach France.”

Their destination was a small port town with a population of no more than five hundred. It was such an insignificant blip on the map that few remembered that it existed. Mama knew it to be a hotbed of smuggling activity between France and England. If Papa wanted to escape the country undetected, there was his best chance at doing so. However, the Duke of Tenwick had learned that French authorities were hunting in that area. Whether they hunted smugglers or Papa, Charlie didn’t know. They had to get to the port quickly.

She sat on the bed next to Mama. “I don’t see how Madame Renault is going to help. Aside from giving us shelter, I mean. She won’t know where to look for a spy. Besides, we won’t be able to confess our true reason for visiting France.”

Instead, Charlie would have to pretend that she was getting married to a Frenchman she had never met. To those who knew her, it was laughable. If she were truly on her way to an altar, she would have to be carried on board kicking and screaming. She would sabotage the ship—and beg Anthony for his help getting away from France, not to it.

Charlie wanted new experiences. Even if it irked her to have to conceal her true purpose behind a ludicrous lie, at least she was finally getting the adventure she’d always dreamed about. She would see places outside England, the open sea air, a sleepy French port town. It was thrilling.

“You’ll have to keep up the ruse when we reach France,” Mama warned. “If Madame Renault cannot further our search, I’ll need you to keep her distracted while I search.”

Charlie bit her lip to stifle a sigh. Lady Graylocke, for all her generosity in recommending her friend and sending along a letter of introduction, couldn’t possibly know the rigors of unearthing a spy who didn’t want to be found.

Morgan, Lady Graylocke’s son, had insisted his mother be kept in the dark as to the true nature of their expedition. Lady Graylocke knew Charlie well enough by now to realize that an arranged marriage was a sham of an excuse, so Mama had taken Lady Graylocke aside and explained some of the situation but not all of it. Charlie’s father was not dead, as was presumed, but alive, and now that they believed him to be in France, they had to find him. To Charlie’s astonishment, Lady Graylocke had made less of a fuss over Charlie accompanying her mother than Mama had. She’d simply given them the letter and instructions to present themselves to Madame Renault so she might ease their way. Charlie shouldn't have been surprised, though, because Lady Graylocke was a gracious, accommodating, and generous person. She was a good friend to Charlie and her mother and would help in any way she could.

But Lady Graylocke was a former duchess. What good would a peer do in this situation? Unfortunately, Mama was right. Most likely, Charlie would have to act the pliant fiancée while Mama claimed all the adventure and searched for Papa.

Charlie took a deep breath. As long as he was found, did it matter which of them did the deed? “Once we reach land, will we go there directly?”

Mama answered calmly. “I believe that will be best. We aren’t locals, so if the town is as small as I am led to believe, even if we speak perfect French, we will be remarked upon.” She raised her eyebrows at her daughter. “You do not speak perfect French.”

Charlie grimaced. “I studied before we left.” It had been years since she’d been taught the language, and most of the vocabulary had slipped from her mind.

“And you should continue while we’re aboard the ship,” Mama chided.

The last thing Charlie wanted to do was to be cooped up with a book while there was adventure to be had up on deck. The last crew with whom they had traveled had not treated Charlie’s curiosity generously. She still didn’t know much more about how a ship worked than which mast was called the mizzenmast, and since this new ship had more masts than the last, she couldn’t even point that one out. Nevertheless, Charlie pretended that she intended to study more French as she slipped out of the captain’s quarters. The open sea breeze called to her, and she never made it back to her cabin.

Didn’t Mama understand? Excitement awaited beyond wooden walls, not inside them. It was adventure that Charlie hoped to find.

* * *

Hell and damnation, what is Charlie Vale doing above deck? Gray gritted his teeth as he crossed the rolling floorboards, slick with sea spray. His body naturally adjusted to the ebb and flow of the waves—unlike Miss Vale, who appeared to be struggling to keep her balance even while standing still. She laughed and batted her eyelashes at Lieutenant Stills, who should have been overseeing the men—men who were almost certainly admiring Miss Vale’s feminine form.

Although the rain had stopped for the moment, gusts of wind molded the dress to her body, showing every contour. The breeze teased out locks of her hair to tickle the column of her neck. Although she apparently had no sense of manners or propriety, she was lovely.

Gray couldn’t speak for the men assigned to the barque from the admiral’s ship, but if they were anything like the navy men he commanded, they were greedy for female companionship. If Miss Vale insinuated herself next to the wrong person at the wrong time, she might be in danger. If he was stuck escorting her to France, he would damn well ensure that she arrived safely. That meant none of this strolling unescorted above deck.

As he approached the woman and her companion, Stills, the lieutenant laughed. “It’s hard to say what would fit her. I might call her the Veiled Smile. Unless you can think of a better alternative.”

Miss Vale laughed prettily. “You flatter me.”

“How do you know I am referring to you? Perhaps I’ve taken a shine to your mother.”

The young woman laughed again. Her blue eyes sparkled in the gray light sifting from between the clouds. “Well played, Mr. Stills.”

Lieutenant Stills.

He didn’t correct her.

She tapped her index finger against her lips, drawing Gray’s attention to them. Yes, his crew were animals starved for female company. Especially Gray.

“Why not a name that includes luck or fortune?” she suggested. “It was our good fortune that you happened upon us in time to save us, after all.”

Gray gritted his teeth. So the maddening woman was willing to admit that she had, in fact, been saved by their timely arrival. However, she wasn’t willing to admit her acknowledgement or gratitude to the man who had saved her—him.

“It was our pleasure, Miss Vale, I assure you.”

Gray stormed up to the pair and cut the conversation short. “Miss Vale—”

She smiled up at him brightly. “Anthony! We were just contemplating what Mr. Stills here intends to name his ship.”

“Lieutenant Stills,” Gray corrected between gritted teeth. “Soon to be Captain Stills, when I am no longer aboard the vessel. Address him with respect.”

Miss Vale’s eyes widened. She licked her lips, once again turning his attention to the shape of her mouth. She turned to the lieutenant. “Forgive me, M—Lieutenant Stills. I meant no disrespect.”

Stills flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry your head over it, Miss Vale. I took no offense.”

Gray gripped her by the elbow and steered her toward the entrance to the deck below. She started to fight him but lost both her breath and her footing when the ship rolled due to another wave.

For a brief moment, Gray transferred his arm to her waist, holding her upright. Her body touched his intimately, reminding him of the pleasure to be found in holding a woman. He resisted. Releasing her the moment she regained her footing, he ushered her to the ladder leading below.

Although the captain’s quarters abutted the deck, in order to reach those belonging to the officers, they had to climb down a ladder into the belly of the ship. The narrow corridor beneath the entrance was punctuated by the doorways to the various cabins, one of which Miss Vale should have been occupying at that very moment. Gray followed her down the ladder, clenching his jaw when she rounded on him at the bottom.

“Have you lost your way, Miss Vale?”

“Charlie,” she snapped. “And no, I haven’t. You just happen to be between me and where I’d like to go.”

He clasped his hands behind him. “You aren’t safe above deck. Please remain in your cabin, and I’ll send for you the moment we come within view of France.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. The light from above didn’t penetrate far into the cramped corridor. Shadows swathed behind her, making it seem as though they were enveloped in darkness and privacy. The creaks of the ship and footsteps of the sailors seemed distant.

“I am perfectly safe,” she told him. “Far be it from me to lounge in a stuffy cabin when I could be above!”

He took a deep, steadying breath. You are addressing a lady. Act like it. He clasped his hands hard. “I’m afraid you must remain in your cabin. That was not a request.”

“Anthony…”

“I don’t believe I gave you leave to call me by my Christian name.”

She scowled. “We’re practically brother and sister. You’ll have to learn to live with it.”

He stiffened. “I assure you, I do not think of you in a brotherly manner, and neither do the men above. The only thing running through their minds is how best to separate you from your drawers. Ask your fiancé, if you don’t believe me. Men are the basest of animals, and men who have been separated from women for lengths of time are even worse.”

Unimpressed by his warning, she crossed her arms. The movement pressed her skirt against her slim waist and emphasized the swell of her breasts.

Where he should certainly not be looking.

She didn’t appear to notice his wandering gaze. “Don’t think you can shock me, Anthony. And for the record, I have no fiancé to ask.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?” She had explicitly bragged to him that she had one, the man she was set to marry.

Please, for the love of Jove, let the man she had her sights on know that she intended to marry him. Though it would be that fellow’s problem if he doesn’t. Not Gray’s. The moment they landed in France, he was going to wash his hands of her. Battling a fleet of French ships was less of a headache than trying to deal with this woman and keep a civil tongue in his head.

She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “I’m not going to France to get married.”

He had to have misheard. “You told me—”

“I know what I told you,” she snapped. “That’s the lie we’re telling so no one guesses the truth.”

The truth being that no one wants to marry her? Gray would have guessed that the moment they crossed paths. Now, atop being ungrateful for his assistance, she was confessing to have manipulated him into taking her someplace he didn’t want to go.

“So I’m taking you to France on a lark?”

“No.” She blinked rapidly, her thick eyelashes veiling her gaze for a moment. “Of course not. Don’t be absurd.”

Nothing about this situation was sensible.

“I need to go to France in order to find my father.” Her eyes were big, her lips parted, and her voice no higher than a whisper.

He relaxed his pose, dropping his hands loosely at his sides. Why hadn’t she told him this to begin with? If her father was missing—he must be, given the way she spoke of the matter—then he would have been much more amenable to lending his ship. He still would have needed to garner permission from his superiors, but he would have been much less of a prat about it. He took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

“No one can know,” she whispered back. She leaned forward, grasping his arm and squeezing.

He must be as bad as his men, because he couldn’t stop thinking about the length of her fingers around his bicep.

She confessed, “If you weren’t family, I wouldn’t be telling you. My father is believed to be dead, and it is imperative that people continue to think so.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“He’s a Crown spy.”

That explained Lord Strickland’s involvement in the matter. “And he’s gone missing from his post?”

She nodded. “Precisely.”

Perhaps that was why she had been acting so waspish and unladylike; she worried for her father. He could understand that. Granted, most young ladies would worry at home, not gallivant into enemy territory. She didn’t seem to realize the danger she was putting herself in. Did anyone else? “And Lord Strickland sent you to look for him.”

Miss Vale nibbled on her lower lip. “Not exactly. I doubt he knows I’m involved. My mother volunteered to search—”

As Gray opened his mouth, she cut him off.

“Mama is a Crown spy, too.”

Her family was riddled with them. Next, she would tell him that her sister, his brother’s wife, was also involved in the spy business. He took a steadying breath. “Very well. Your secret is safe with me.”

Relief blossomed across her face along with a winsome smile. “Thank you. I knew I could rely on you.”

He held up his hand. With the movement of his arm, she released her hold on him. Without her touch, he felt strangely bereft. He’d been aboard ship too long. What he needed was a long shore leave to work free his frustrations. Perhaps once he delivered her to France, he would put in a request for one.

“I’ll let you know when we reach France.” He nodded toward the nearest cabin, assigned to her.

Her chin firmed. “I won’t fall off the ship. I want to be above deck.”

“No. I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?” Outrage crossed her face, making her eyes glint with promise. It wasn’t a promise any man likely wanted to have acted out upon him.

Gray held his ground. “Yes. I am the captain, and I forbid your presence on deck without an escort.”

“You are not my guardian,” she snapped. “You cannot tell me what to do.”

He bristled. “I can, and I will.”

A wisp of scent from her hair wafted to him. It smelled of citrus. How had she managed that? He likely smelled of sea and sweat. What little fresh water there was aboard a ship was kept for drinking.

Nevertheless, that delicate, feminine scent made him weak-kneed. It had been too long since he’d been at port. And longer, still, since he hadn’t been forced to set an example for his men by restraining his extracurricular activities. He missed the way a woman smelled. He missed the way she felt against his body. The way Charlie would feel, if she lost her balance and fell into him.

He absolutely could not let her above deck. If his control was so thin, he didn’t want to risk her safety with anyone else’s. Even Stills. “The deck is no place for a lady.”

She drew herself up. Her breath teased his collar, which he’d opened to take advantage of the cool sea air. “Don’t tell me where my place is! I am a lady. If I am on deck, then that is precisely my place to be.”

He clenched his fists at his sides. “It is your safety I am thinking about.”

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow. “And what ill do you think will befall me if I should get some fresh air?”

“Men are animals, Charlie. Don’t test me on this.” He knew precisely the thoughts going through the head of every man on this ship. He was afflicted by such thoughts, too, and he didn’t even like her. It was the lure of her beauty, and nothing deeper. But even that could push a man who had been deprived for too long.

She laughed, as if the idea were ludicrous. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“Do you have no faith in your gender? Every man on board has been a perfect gentleman.”

“Until they catch you alone,” he insisted. “Then you’ll find the matter much changed.”

“Is that so?” A smile teased at her lips. Such plump lips. They looked soft. “You’ve been alone with me for over five minutes. You haven’t fallen on me like some kind of beast. Or are you going to tell me that you’re a different caliber of man?”

He wasn’t. He knew better than to lie. Instead, he cupped her jaw. Her hair, a bit tangled from the wind, was soft against his fingers. Her skin was even softer.

He was only doing this to prove his point, to scare her into compliance, or so he told himself. The moment his fingers met her skin, he lost his senses.

He pulled her up against him and kissed her until she lost hers, too. Her body fit against him intimately, a soft contrast to his hard physique. She gasped as her breasts were crushed against his chest. He took advantage of her parted lips and invaded with his tongue.

Push me away.

She didn’t. Although hesitant at first, she soon tangled her fingers in his hair and met his every stroke. She tasted divine. He forgot himself, his hands wandering as he learned the shape of her, fitting her against him. Against his stiffening arousal.

Lawks! What was he doing? He released her with alacrity. She blinked up at him with owlish eyes, raising her hand to brush her swollen mouth. He swallowed hard and stepped back. “Go to your cabin and stay there.”

He must have made his point, after all, because she shut herself away without argument. It should have been a victory, but it felt more like a mistake.